


Bryopsida

by alokos



Series: Flowers’ Meanings verse [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Flowers au, Gen, about motherly love and childhood, there may be nostalgia in here for that’s what i was aiming for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5894260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alokos/pseuds/alokos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camelot will surely be an amazing fresh start, but let’s not forget about who made him who he is for Merlin doesn’t think he’ll ever forget her. And the other one, too.</p>
<p>(or the one where motherly love wins against everything and there is a little bit of longing for childhood memories)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bryopsida

**Author's Note:**

> the second snippet for this series is about Hunith because i think she often does not get enought recognition or praise for everything she did – and who else could have taught Merlin flower’s meanings if not her?

 

_Bryopsida_

_tired eyes and crinkling skin,_  
_your beauty’s not fading_

 

 

When Merlin was little, Hunith used to put moss everywhere.

  
There were bowls full of it on the table in the kitchen and it dried on the windowsills; she seemed to always have it no matter the time or place and Merlin used to think she hid it in her sleeves and under her skirt – which obviously led to many ‘missions’ and just as many failures and scoldings.

  
When she could buy it, she sewed pine-green yarns in his robes and on the hems of his shirts – curved lines on white cotton like the green moss that meant _home_.

  
It was a plant that would always mean home – Hunith, her warm and calloused hands and the soft skin of her neck and her hair when she left it loose at night, the cold stone floor and the bed too little for him, the rough wood of the table and the small garden with bright grass and colourful little flowers, home home home.

  
It reminded him of Will, too, sometimes – how he made fun of Merlin for smelling like moss all the time, or how he picked it from the windowsill and put it on his hair when they played, pretending it was a king’s crown. It was the smell of their days in the forest, of when they stole apples from the tree at the end of the road, of camping under the stars during summer, of their childhood.

  
He didn’t understand why _the moss_ was always _there_ , it did not have a reason to be but it was and the familiarity that it conveyed always warmed his heart and brought a smile to his face.

  
And then one day Hunith had told him a story, and many more after that first one – stories about flowers and herbs and plants, stories on their meanings and how she had learned them back when she lived in Camelot, stories about a grumpy physician and his wisdom, stories of a heartbroken king and his beautiful beautiful queen, stories of bright summer afternoons and warm winter nights, stories full of happiness and colours.

  
And Merlin ha dreamed so much, eyes full of wonders while she spoke softly at night, in the darkness of their little house with the universe shining above their heads.

**—**

The night before his departure was quiet.

  
Merlin had spent the day with Will, running wildly and carelessly down the hill until they found the river and then bathing in the cold water and laying in the sun to dry; they climbed the tall trees up to the top and their laughter echoed down to the undergrowth.

  
As sunset had come along they had started to make their way back to the village, picking some herbs and eating berries from the low bushes on the way.

  
Hunith was waiting for him on the doorstep when they arrived and a tired smile stretched her lips as he waltzed toward her.

  
He talked excitedly over dinner and she listened intently, laughing with him and caressing his hand over the tabletop.

  
After, she poured hot water in the little tub for him and scrubbed his back, legs and arms intently, soaped his hair and washed it gently.

  
There was silence for a little while.

  
“Mom.”  
“I’ll miss you, you know.”

  
Her voice wavered lightly and she propped her head on his shoulder.

  
Their hands twined in a strong grip on the side of the tub, his fingers trying to soothe her distress.

  
“I know. I’ll miss you too.”

  
Silence swept over them for a long time then – the water had long gone cold when Hunit started humming a melody and got up to fetch a towel.

  
Merlin slept for the last time in his bed that night, too little now for his lanky body, and he was up before sunrise.

  
The sky was still dark when he exited the house, rucksack over his shoulders.

  
Hunith embraced him a last time, her little hands smoothing down his hair and slipping something in his pocket.

  
When they parted, she cupped his face with one hand and gave him a piece of bread.

  
“Stay safe and be careful. I love you.”  
“Love you too, mom.”

 

Halfway to Camelot he slipped his fingers a little in his pocket and grazed at the dry moss there – a smile tugged at his lips and pride swelled up in his chest.


End file.
